Runaway Rosie.

Six.

It's kind of short, and I'm not sure how well it flows. Anyways, I hope it's alright :) xx <3

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Dear Diary,

It's been a few years. A few long, traumatizing years at that. The last time I wrote a journal entry was the day my last remaining family member died. Grandma May. She was the one who encouraged me to write about everything starting with my parents' death. It was a way for me to cope, mainly because I refused to speak to anyone at the time. She was an amazing person. Loved by everyone who knew her. If it wasn't for her, I don't know who I would be.

A lot happened between then and now.

To keep it short;

I got married to my highschool sweetheart, while still in school. His name was Jason. Last name isn't important. I was a freshmen and he was a senior when we met. We had only exchanged a 'hello' or two in the hallway from time to time, nothing big, until one day when he came up to me in the hallway and simply asked for my number. Of course I gave it to him. He was extremely attractive, plus he was upperclassmen, which meant popularity, meaning I would have friends. That made me bubble over with excitement. Months later, he was taking me out to dinner or to movies or for romantic walks, everything was going great. Then my Grandmother suddenly died and I was alone. Jason proposed us getting married that way I wouldn't have to go become a foster child and move around a lot. At the time it seemed like a great idea. Now that I look back, it was the biggest mistake of my life.

I dropped out of school, as he would say. Once we were married, he convinced me to leave highschool and just homeschool. His reasoning was that I was depressed over my family and that going to public school would makes things much more difficult. Made sense to me, so I foolishly listened to him. I never finished school.

I was abused. It started with a few hurtful words here and there, slowly progressing to a couple smacks, leading to multiple punches, finally resulting in full body blows. I became accustomed to the pain and gave up on fighting back. What was the point? If I resisted, he would just hurt me more. The best thing to do was to just go with it, as awful as that sounds.

I ran away. With only the clothes on my back and a safe haven brochure, I left everything behind. It only took me four years to summon the courage to do so, but at least I did it. I got away. He was no longer going to control my life or hurt me any more. I, Rosemarie Lynn, was finally going to be free once again.

I almost forgot. I also conceived a child, but that's a story for another day...

I set my journal down on the table and picked up my coffee mug. The blended smell flourished as I blew softly on the steaming liquid. Harry was off doing something work related and Anne was out shopping again, leaving me with nothing to do.

When I woke up, I decided to skim through the house, wearing Harry's pajamas, in search of anything to occupy my free time, when a small, leather-back book on the kitchen table caught my eye. A note was attached to the front cover reading, "Roza, I saw this in an antique store and thought of you. Figured you could use something to keep track of your wandering thoughts. Xx Hazza".

The moment my fingers grazed the smooth surface, I was brought back to the times when I would stay up past my bedtime, a flashlight in one hand and a pen in the other, writing about my day. The blank pages smelled heavenly, the way most books, especially old ones, do. I quickly grabbed a pen from the closest drawer and sat down to begin writing.

"I almost forgot. I also conceived a child, but that's a story for another day..." might as well talk about it now.

"Roza? I'm home."

Or not.